


Angel or Devil [The Prankster's War]

by Child_of_Hermes



Series: Angel or Devil [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Child_of_Hermes/pseuds/Child_of_Hermes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why my parents named me Angel is the biggest mystery in my life. You could call me lot of things, a prankster, a devil, but not an Angel."</p><p>- Angel Lávine</p><p>Born a troublemaker, Angel loved to play pranks and have a good laugh, but that changed when her parents died in a magical accident. One year later, she gets "the letter" from Hogwarts. In order to escape the horrible orphanage she was sent to, Angel makes the heart wrenching decision to study the craft that killed her parents. Can a certain pair of red head tricksters remind her of the thrill of pranking? What will happen when she descovers a plan to sabatoge the house cup?</p><p>THIS STORY IS ALSO AVAILABLE ON WATTPAD AND FANFICTION.NET IF YOU PREFER THOSE PLATFORMS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel or Devil [The Prankster's War]

On the outside, Madame M's Orphan Home seemed like a happy, welcoming place. It's bright yellow paint and multicoloured yard seemed to call people in, inviting them to drop in for a cup of tea or maybe just sit under the large Maple tree to relax for a bit. Even the peeling paint and crooked mailbox just added to the homely feel of the Orphanage.

If you ever were to inquire to the neighbors what kind of person Madame M was, they would almost certainly tell you about a short, plump woman who had an ever smiling face, bless her, and a slight lingering smell of freshly baked cookies around her at all times. They would tell you of her graying hair and lovely voice, and they wouldn't be lying. That was most certainly the Madame M they knew.

But it wasn't the Madame Mumsa I knew.

The pleasant demeanor of the Orphan Home extended from the exterior of the building into the reception area and stopped abruptly at the threshold between it and the dark, dim hallway beyond. So did Madame M's wonderful personality it seemed, for I remember upon many occasions when she would step through that doorway, her pleasant smile morphing into an ugly sneer and her honey like voice turning into a terrifying growl. I recall turning away in fear, only to have her nails dig into my skin as she wrenched me back towards her.

"Stupid girl!" She screamed as she pulled away whatever I had in my hands that day. "Look at me when I talk to you!" She spat at me as I started crying. Throwing me aside, she continued down the hallway, muttering curses under her breath and terrorizing any poor child that dared to stand in her path.

I had eventually come to learn that the best way to stay out of her wrath was to avoid her, especially today.

Praying that Madame Mumsa wouldn't remember that it was my birthday, I locked myself into my small attic room, hoping to pass the day in peace and quiet.

My room was no different from the rest of the Orphanage, dusty and dark, with very little furniture, but still managed to give off a cramped feeling whenever you walked in. One small window overlooked the front yard, taunting who ever looked outside with a beautiful view of blossoming flowers and cheerfully chirping birds. My favorite passtime used to be to sit here for hours, looking out at the world, imagining what a perfect life would be. Now I would rather leave the ratty curtain pulled over the window, prefering to sit in the dark than to look at a world that I could never be in. Today, however, I pulled up a short stool next to the window, letting my self indulge one more time. After all, you weren't eleven every day.

The uneven floor made the already bumpy stool teeter back and forth with the slightest movement. I had to uncomfortably straighten my back to keep the wobbling stool still. I pushed that thought into the back of my mind, letting the warm sunlight wash over my face. Hesitantly, I reached out to open the pane of glass, longing to be just a tiny bit closer to the world outside. I inhaled sharply as the fresh air hit my nose, bringing along with it the strong sent of Autumn. An overwhelming sense of exhaustion swept over me and I slowly let my eyelids shut.

The usual assumption of orphans is that they were abandoned on doorsteps as a baby because they were concieved out of wedlock, or the parents didn't have enough money to provide for them, hoping they would have a "better life". Eventually, the orphan is shocked to find out that they indeed have parents and that they were wanted after all! Huzzah.

At least that's what I read in my books.

I've wished over and over that my story was just like those books, but the sad reality is, my parents won't come back for me. Knowing they're dead is what keeps me going.

My stool fell back with an audible thump as I relaxed my back muscles. I shook my head vigoroursly, hoping that it help would clear my thoughts. Snap out of it! I didn't want the negativity to control me on such a special day. I blinked a couple of times and started searching for a distraction.

My eyes fell on a darkly clothed woman who had been making her way up the otherwise empty street. Even from afar, you could see the elegance in which she carried herself, her long black gown trailing behind her as she seemingly glided across the cracked pavement. Wisps of grey in her tightly pulled back hair hinted at her age, but her light skin and high cheekbones left the lingering impression of her past beauty.

I expected her to walk right past the orphanage, maybe giving it a quick glance like most did, but she stopped abruptly at the rusted metal gate infront of Madame M's. She paused for a moment, looking down to consult something in her left hand. Then, for a fleeting second, our eyes met.

I froze.

But her gaze had already turned away. I wached as her fingertips grazed the metal, applying just enough pressure for the gate to swing smothly open. I frowned, wasn't the gate locked? I returned my attention back to her just in time to see the hem of her black dress dissapear under the overhang below me.

I dragged the curtain back over my window, no longer interested in the view. Carefully, I returned the stool back to its original place. I made my way to the door, hoping that I could catch bits of her conversation with Madame Mumsa.

I had hung a small mirror on the door of my bedroom, mainly because I had nowhere else to put it, but I usually kept my head down as I moved passed it, not wanting to see the mess I had become. This time, however, it caught me off guard.

A pair of haunted grey eyes stared back at me. An equally ashen face mimicked the facial expressions of my own. My hair was longer than I had remebered, and the black of it just accentuated the dark circles under my eyes.

Unable to look for much longer, I moved closer to the door, pressing my ear against the cold wood. The thin walls of the Orphanage worked in my favor and I could clearly hear the sickly sweet sound of Madame Mumsa's fake voice.

"Her? Are you sure?"

I shifted in my position, so she wanted see someone? A soft, quick reply could be heard, although I couldn't make out the words. Madame M's reply was still as loud as ever.

"Of course, I'll get her immediately."

I heard more muffled sounds, a quick whisper of thanks, maybe? Soon, Madame Mumsa's unmistakable footsteps rang throughout the Orphanage. I backed away from the door, but she seemed to be heading straight for me.

A few seconds later, the door swung open. Madame M stood in the doorway, her murky blue eyes gave me a once over.

"Someone's asking for you" said Madame Mumsa, "Hurry up."

Stubling forward, I blindly followed her out of my room.

I nearly tripped over myself several times as I she lead down to the reception area, biting my lip over and over in a last ditch attempt to bring some colour back to them. Just before we reached our destination, Madame M stopped. I almost ran into her, but stopped myself just in time. She turned to face me,

"Behave."

I shuddered as the word left her mouth. I could almost feel the venom drip off of them. She narrowed her eyes at me and shoved me into the bright room ahead of us.

I hadn't visited the reception area since I arrived at the Orphanage, choosing to leave through the back door when ever I needed to, but the room had not changed at all. Its bright colours and welcoming atmosphere was almost as deceiving as the building's exterior. A bored receptionist sat behind the small counter, filing away the information of each child probably for the 100th time today. The only difference was the stranger standing infront of me.

I took a deep breath to calm myself. Managing to find my voice, I tried to introduce myself.

"um- My name is Angel... Angel Lavine."

The corners of the woman's mouth lifted in a faint smile. She held out a hand to me,

"Minerva McGonagall."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> The first chapter is finally out! Please don't hesitate to comment  
> and criticize, but also remember to vote, kudo, and favourite!
> 
> Xoxo,  
> Bella
> 
> (THIS STORY IS ALSO AVAILABLE ON WATTPAD AND FANFICTION.NET IF YOU PREFER THOSE PLATFORMS


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